


That Place Where Clearances Don't Matter

by Telaryn



Series: Second Chances [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Canonical Character Death, Established Relationship, First Time, Flashbacks, Fraternization, M/M, Office Sex, Past Violence, Resolved Sexual Tension, Resurrection, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-28 00:10:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/985283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telaryn/pseuds/Telaryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The debate may not be settled as to whether or not the Avengers are Level 7 - but even as he said it Coulson knew that such minor obstacles wouldn't be enough to keep his best agents from finding out the truth.</p><p>In fact, in the case of one Clint Francis Barton, he was counting on it.</p><p>Meantime, Clint sees a resemblance between new recruit Skye and an old friend that's likely to lead us into some interesting crossover territory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Place Where Clearances Don't Matter

**Author's Note:**

> First and foremost, this is the Clint/Coulson reunion I agreed to while finishing "The Hero and the Bad Boy". With Agents of SHIELD so close, I wanted to give a Clint/Coulson reunion new space to properly breathe (although Coulson's reference to Clint being with someone else can be assumed to be Quinn).
> 
> Aside from that, I wanted to play with the new characters a bit and explore a theory I have about the relationship between Skye and a certain dark-haired vampire slayer.

He saw their approach, even before May messaged him from her quarters. Which was encouraging, all things considered, since the two of them were making no secret of their target or intentions. “How do you want to handle it?”

Coulson thought about the younger members of their team, and how each of them would be likely to react. Barton and Romanoff wouldn’t be looking to kill, but depending on how much resistance they met the fallout wasn’t likely to be pretty or neat. It would be a good object lesson – clue him in on how each of his people was likely to react in a combat situation.

“Phil? They’re coming fast, and they don’t look happy.”

One flick of his finger deactivated the alarm on the plane’s external hatch. Then, despite his best efforts to pretend this didn’t mean everything, Coulson realized he couldn’t stop himself reaching out to touch the image of Clint Barton on his view-screen. “Do nothing. I want to see how this plays out.”  
****************  
It was everything Grant Ward hated about working with a team compressed into a five second burst of insanity and adrenaline overload. His first mistake was assuming that wherever Coulson and May were, they were at least aware of what was going on outside the bus.

Second mistake was assuming that the external hatch was wired with some kind of alarm – hell, _any_ kind of alarm.

The last was nothing more than stupidity on his part – the idea when confronted by two gun-toting bad-asses in SHIELD uniforms, his teammates would do more than draw back in fear and confusion. They didn’t even have the excuse of recognizing Agents Barton and Romanoff and _knowing_ that they had good cause to be confused and afraid.

“Where is your boss?”

His sidearm was already in his hand, but wary of Romanoff’s reputation in particular, Ward kept it snug against his thigh. “You two aren’t supposed to be here,” he said, trying to keep his voice level and calm. “You’re not cleared for this.”

Barton glanced up from the device in his right hand. His gun was in his left, and while it wasn’t aimed exactly at Ward, Grant knew that could change in a heartbeat. “Did you hear that Nat?” the sharpshooter asked, snorting derisively. “We’re not cleared for this.”

“I heard,” his partner sighed. “You got him?”

Ward risked a step closer in the half-second they took to glance at each other, but even as he did he knew it was pointless. “Sit puppy,” Barton told him, “before I spank you with a rolled up intelligence briefing.”

He could feel FitzSimmons struggling to control their laughter – Skye, on the other hand, had no such concerns. Grant felt his cheeks flame hot with embarrassment at the sound of the hacker’s giggles. Barton seemed intrigued by the idea of having an appreciative audience, but when he turned his attention to Skye he inexplicably paused. _Almost like he recognizes her,_ Ward realized, filing the information away for future study.

“Do you have him?” Romanoff repeated, obviously losing patience with how much time the operation was taking. Barton flinched, but came immediately back on task.

“His quarters are at the front of the bird,” he confirmed, holding up the device in the palm of his hand. “I bet he’s the reason we didn’t trip any alarms coming in here either.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “You mean it’s not because of your genius lock-picking skills?” She nudged him with her shoulder. “Go. I’ll watch your back for as long as it takes.”

With another quick glance at Skye, Barton turned and jogged up the corridor – heading for Coulson’s quarters. As soon as he was out of sight, some of the tension in Romanoff’s shoulders eased, and she holstered her guns.

Grant couldn’t help raising his eyebrows. “That’s a little insulting, don’t you think?” Nevertheless, he holstered his own weapon as well. It made sense to minimize the firearms with so many obstacles around.

The Black Widow smiled at him, folding her arms across her chest and looking him up and down. “You don’t care enough about Coulson to make a fight of it,” she said at last. “Not the kind of fight you know you’ll get from us.”

Skye did step forward at that. “You’re not going to kill him, are you?” she asked, clearly worried now that was –in fact – their intention. “Who the hell are you anyway?”

Romanoff looked surprised at being addressed by the hacker. “Natasha Romanoff,” she said, inclining her head. “Who the hell are you?”

The hacker took a startled step back, recognizing the infamous Black Widow by name if not by sight. “Uh, Skye,” she stammered finally. “Just…Skye.”  
**********************  
He’d been aching for Ward to give him an excuse. The idea that a tool like Grant Ward would be cleared to know Coulson was alive even before he and Natasha were cut deeper than Clint was prepared to forgive.

 _You aren’t SHIELD anymore. Not really._ The thought was like one of Natasha’s knives between his ribs. It had been comfortable putting on the familiar black gear once more – not weird, like he’d expected – and Clint wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel about that. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel about anything anymore; his head literally ached with all the questions he needed to ask his former handler.

 _He might not tell you anything,_ Memory of Natasha’s observation made him scowl. She was right, of course. When it came to things like this, she very nearly always was. Clint was just grateful she understood his need to try, and was willing to back his play – no matter how likely it was to land them in the brig.

 _”When this is over, we’re both going to take some time off.”_ It had been over a year, and Clint could remember the feel of Coulson’s hands on his skin as though the moment had just happened. _”We’re going to talk about everything, I promise – figure out if there’s a way to go forward.”_

Clint had loved Phil Coulson for longer than he was willing to admit to anyone, and the knowledge Phil had died thinking Clint was lost to Loki’s magic had kept him from being able to grieve normally and work through his criminally long list of regrets. The idea that all of that agony might have been for nothing…

He slid to a halt as the door at the end of the corridor opened, heart hammering against his ribs as a familiar figure stepped from the shadows. “Hello Barton.”  
***********************  
Phil Coulson’s last thought as Nick Fury’s face had faded from his eyes had been identical to the first one he’d had on waking in SHIELD medical and finding himself alive and reasonably whole. Every breath he’d taken from that moment to this had been at least in part waiting until the man he held closest to his soul was standing in front of him again. “I knew you’d find your way back,” he said softly into the silence that had fallen between the two of them. “I never doubted it for a second.”

In all the years they’d worked together, he’d never seen Clint Barton so completely at a loss for words. Phil wanted to go to him, touch him – reassure the archer that he wasn’t hallucinating – but he was also painfully aware that the corridor was public space and most of his team wouldn’t think twice about arranging a reason to stroll by and see for themselves what was going on. “Come in,” he said finally, stepping to one side and gesturing Clint into his quarters. “I imagine you have a lot of questions, and I don’t think we need to answer them out here.”

Clint stayed where he was, not moving – long enough that Coulson began to wonder if he was going to have to repeat himself. Before he could say anything however, the man standing opposite him finally spoke. “How long?”

Phil felt the muscles along his jaw tighten. Barton’s voice was the part of him Coulson knew best, low and smooth with hints of mischief and sin; not broken and full of pain, like the archer had swallowed a mouthful of broken glass. “Come inside, Barton,” he said gently. “Please. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

“ _How long?_ ” Repeated, the question was louder…sharper…and it was all Coulson could do not to visibly flinch at the accusation. _He’s shaking,_ he realized, as he forced himself to maintain eye contact with his former asset. He’d had more than enough time in his grass hut to consider all the possible ways this moment could play out; good and bad he’d run it all, and this was definitely skewing hard into the “bad” territory.

 _Nothing to do but tough it out._ “Six months,” he said finally, and it was a relief to have the words out in the open at last. “Six months since I was released from the ICU, three months enforced recuperation on a private island before Director Fury would certify me fit to return to duty.”

Clint was quiet…calmer…as he digested the truth of what had happened. “You’d moved on,” Coulson continued, feeling his own heart break as he said the words. “You had the Avengers – even if you knew, it wouldn’t be like it was. _We_ wouldn’t be like we were.”

“Did you ever stop and think we might be better?” Clint moved in on him, close enough that Coulson could smell mingled leather and sweat…the heady scent he’d always associated with the archer and the growing tangle of his feelings about the younger man. “Did you think about us at all?”

“By the time I was well enough to look for you,” Coulson began – cursing inwardly as he heard his own voice shaking now, “you had somebody new in your life.” He swallowed, remembering the glimpses he’d had of the two men together. “You looked happy.”

He realized with a small jolt that Barton had moved well inside his personal space while he was talking. They were close enough to touch now – close enough for more things than Coulson’s brain was prepared to consider in this moment. “He’s not you,” Clint said roughly, his grey-green eyes full of more emotion than Coulson had ever seen in him.

Before he could even begin to parse what to say to that, Barton’s hands were on him – pulling him in close and kissing him as fiercely and desperately as Coulson had ever been kissed in his life.  
************************  
The closest thing Clint could compare it to was the longest fall he’d ever walked away clean from. Adrenaline washed through his body as Coulson kissed him back, making the world around him sing and intensifying the feel of the man in his arms. “We are going to take the rest of this someplace more private, aren’t we?” Phil murmured as they finally broke off their kiss.

Clint felt a pleasant warmth pooling deep in his body as he looked into his former handler’s eyes and read the man’s clear intent. “You’re the boss,” he said, grinning wickedly.

“Not anymore,” Coulson acknowledged; his tone wistful. “I’ve seen your file. I’ve watched the recordings of your missions. You’ve grown past what I can do for you.”

He didn’t think it was possible, but Clint felt his smile widen, grow almost feral. “I don’t know about that,” he said, curling his fingers into the soft fabric of Coulson’s dress shirt and slowly undoing the top button. “I’m counting on you being able to do a lot for me.” He tugged until Phil stepped forward – his smile matching Clint’s own. “A whole lot,” Clint said, undoing the next button.

They continued that way until they were well into Coulson’s quarters and Phil had kicked the door shut. “I don’t suppose you need to tell Natasha what’s going on?” he asked, pulling Clint’s close-fitting black shirt up and over his head in one smooth movement.

Clint snorted. “She knows.” Pushing the fabric of Coulson’s dress shirt back off his shoulders, he caught it neatly and draped it over a nearby chair. When he turned back, the other man’s blue eyes were lit with amusement.

“Nice.”

“I remember,” Clint countered. Unwilling to slow down now that they were so close, he grabbed the hem of Coulson’s white undershirt and wrestled it up and off. “Can’t wait to really get my hands on…” he began, but the rest of the sentence died in his throat as he got his first real look at the scar. The skin was thick and whitish – paler than Coulson’s normal skin tone – and as Clint traced the diagonal twisting path it took across Phil’s chest with his fingertips he realized with a growing sick horror that it crossed directly over the other man’s heart.

“This was a death blow,” he breathed, unable to take his fingers off the disfigured flesh.

“Clint…”

 _How did you survive this? What the hell did they do to you?_ Transfixed by the reality of what had happened - _what you helped bring about_ \- he couldn’t stop his brain from sliding back into a loop of self-recrimination and regret.

“Barton, look at me.”

Clint’s startled response was as automatic and instinctive as breathing. “Stay with me,” Coulson said, once he had the other man’s full attention. His left hand wrapped over the archer’s and pressed down until Clint’s palm was flat against his skin. “Can you feel that?” he asked softly. “Not the scar. Deeper than that.”

Clint closed his eyes, focusing in on the feel of the other man’s heartbeat filtering up through flesh, muscle and bone until it vibrated rhythmically against the skin of his palm. “If we’re going to do this,” Coulson said in that same gentle, soothing tone, “I want you here, in the place where I live and breathe, and my heart beats in order to make all that possible.”

He gripped Clint’s wrist then – hard enough that the archer’s eyes flew open and he inhaled sharply. There was a dark, predatory light in the older man’s eyes now – a ferocity Clint had only rarely seen in his former handler. “Don’t let that son of a bitch win.”  
********************  
They’d finally had to send FitzSimmons away. Fitz hadn’t been bad – there was very little about Natasha Romanoff that spoke to his peculiar scientific interests – but Simmons had lost all self-control once she realized who was standing in her reach. Ward had finally picked her up and carried her bodily from the room before Agent May could intervene in a much more decisive fashion.

“Shouldn’t somebody check on Coulson?” Skye asked, pitching her voice low as he returned to what was rapidly becoming their common room. “You said it yourself – they’re not cleared to even be here.”

Grant didn’t want to think about what was likely going on between Phil Coulson and his former asset. Rumors about the two had been swirling around SHIELD bases since long before the Battle of New York, although everybody dutifully swore when confronted that they had no proof. He didn’t have a problem with the same-sex nature of the relationship – it was the fact that any fraternization between a handler and their asset was against the regulations that got under his skin.

“They’re not SHIELD anymore,” he said finally – as much to himself as to Skye. “Not really. And there’s…history…between Barton and Coulson. It was going to have to be dealt with eventually.”

“Why kind of history?” the hacker asked. Grant leveled his best “really?” look at her, and to her credit her eyes widened in realization a moment later, making it so that he didn’t have to elaborate. “Oh. Okay, then.”

Ward realized as she went back to whatever she was working on that in addition to the lingering hints of fraternization, the fact that everyone on the bus knew what was going on between the two men was also making him supremely uncomfortable.

Across the room May said something, and the Black Widow actually laughed. Grant thought about going over to join whatever conversation the women were having, but he still didn’t know where he stood with Melinda May, and if he was being absolutely honest with himself?

Natasha Romanoff scared the ever-living fuck out of him.  
**************  
“You know, you could look a little less pleased with yourself,” Clint said lightly as he finished pulling his boots back on. Just outside his arm’s reach, Coulson was buttoning the last few buttons on his shirt. They’d spent an extremely pleasant hour together, reacquainting themselves with each other and finally making good on at least some of the promises they’d made to each other over the years – promises that outside of one brief moment in Puente Antiguo, Clint suddenly realized they’d never actually verbalized.

“I’m going to hold onto this grin as long as I can thank you very much,” Phil countered, leaning down and kissing Clint again. The archer moaned low in his throat at the contact – feeling things stir that he’d thought were well-satisfied.

When he was finished, Coulson brushed his fingertips lightly across Clint’s cheek. “We have a second chance; a real shot at making this work if you want it.”

Clint huffed out a short, sharp bark of laughter. “I think I’ve made my position on this subject perfectly clear, Boss Man,” he said finally. “I want you. Anyway I can get you.”

Now it was Coulson’s turn to chuckle. “And you wonder why I look so pleased with myself?”

After a few more close calls where Clint realized he was having legitimate issues with keeping his hands off Coulson, the two of them finally left Phil’s quarters and headed back to the real world. “The thing I’m having trouble with,” Clint said as the glass-walled conference room finally came in view, “is that you _picked_ Ward for this.”

“Really?” Coulson was already drawing back into his “Agent” persona, and now that he knew exactly what lay under that cool exterior Clint realized he was even more in love with his former handler. “I think somebody like Agent Ward is perfect for an assignment like this.”

“Plus you like being able to yank his chain,” Clint smirked. Coulson flashed him a grin that wasn’t exactly a denial.

“What can I say?” he asked lightly. “You’ve been a bad influence on me.”

Agent Ward said something to the girl Clint had noticed before, and once again he was struck by the idea that he knew her. “What’s with that one? She doesn’t seem regulation.”

“Skye? She was part of a rogue group. Impressive hacking skills – some of the best computer work I’ve seen since Stark.” He paused. “Why?”

It wasn’t a name he recognized. “No reason,” he said vaguely. “I just thought I recognized her is all.”

Coulson waited for a second to see if he was going to give anything else away then said, “Do you want to meet the kids?”

Clint thought for a second, and then nodded. He knew Melinda May from his days in the service, well enough to know that she and Natasha would both kick his ass if he tried to bail without at least making a stab at being polite. Skye caught his attention again and he made his decision. “You go on. I just need to make a quick call and I’ll be right there.”

Giving him one final curious look, Coulson finally nodded and headed into the conference room for his long-overdue reunion with Natasha. Pulling out his phone, Clint dialed a number that he hadn’t used in years, but still remembered as well as he knew the woman who’d given it to him. “It’s me.”

Studying the young woman in the conference room again, Clint mentally superimposed the features of a closely held memory over hers. Faith had never mentioned family in all the years they’d known each other, but the resemblance between his friend and Coulson’s pet hacker was too striking for it to be a coincidence.

“We need to talk.”


End file.
